The Street Kid
by EvanlynPotter
Summary: Harry is abused by the Dursleys and thrown out when he is 5. He joins a gang of kids, all in similar situations, magical and muggle. Hogwarts is in for a surprise. The Boy Who Lived is all grown up.
1. The Beginning

Parents of disagreeable or ungrateful children often tell said children things like 'there are children in Africa who starve to death everyday and you are given food three times a day, don't be so fussy' and 'there a children all over the world who's parents beat their children and you complain when we send you to your room, your lucky to even have your own room and to have the kind mum and dad that you do'. Well, there were such children in England and Harry Potter, was one of them.

Harry was awoken at dawn by his aunt rapping on to door to his room, the cupboard under the stairs. He felt around for the door-handle and pushed the door open, staggering through it, blinking and squinting. He traveled down the hallway, arms outstretched, and slipped through the kitchen doorway, not speaking to his Aunt, who sat primly on the edge of her seat, drinking a cup of Earl Grey. She always had Earl Grey. In fact, she'd been having Earl Grey for as long as Harry could remember.

He reached over the counter for the frying pan that was sure to be there. It was right there. It always was. He picked up the pan with difficulty (the stupid thing was made of cast iron) and turned to where he knew the stove was, putting it on one of the burners. He walked to the fridge, opening it and squinting at its contents, trying to make out the bag that contained the bacon. There it was! He grabbed it, closed the fridge and set the food cooking. He went about finishing the making of breakfast in a similar manner.

Within minutes, the smell of food attracted his uncle and his beach ball of a cousin. The pair thudded down the stairs and squeezed themselves through the kitchen door (how they managed it, Harry would never know), seating themselves at the table. Harry served breakfast along with a cup of straight black coffee for his uncle ('I won't have any of this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about putting sugar in good coffee'), juice for the baby whale and a little tap water for himself. Then he scampered out of the kitchen and to his cupboard to hide.

Minutes passed and little Harry sat in his cupboard, fidgeting. He waited for his uncle to leave so he could get to his chores and then perhaps a little food, if he finished them all. But only if his Aunt was in a good mood. He heard the front door open and close.

Finally! He was gone. Harry snuck out of his cupboard and into the bathroom to begin the long, tiring day of housework.

Harry scrubbed and polished until the skin of his fingers was red and raw and every movement hurt. Then, he moved out into the garden. He pruned, watered and weeded his aunt's flowers. He cut the lawn. By hand. Then, and only then, did he skulk into the kitchen and stood, head bowed and hands cupped, waiting for his aunt to put the regular bread crusts and cup of stale water in his hands. She did and Harry crouched in the corner of the kitchen, scoffing his 'meal'.

The rest of the day was spent in his cupboard, tending to his hands and ignoring the hunger pains that ripped through his stomach.

*HPGW*RWHG* Hours later * HPGW*RWHG*

Harry flinched as his uncle's voice rang through the hallway and reverberated around the cupboard under the stairs. Vernon stomped up the corridor and wrenched the door of Harry's cupboard open.

The light blinded him for a portion of a second before his uncle's fist grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him out of the comforting darkness and back into the light. Blinded again. Harry kept his eyes closed then, relying on his other senses, his hearing and smell, both enhanced due to his less than perfect eyesight.

The sounds of a door slamming against the wall as Vernon threw it open with too much force. The smell of alcohol was on Vernon's breath. Brilliant. His uncle's beatings hurt more when he was drunk. His aim wasn't as good and more than once his uncle had knocked him out by belting him around the head by mistake.

Vernon dropped him. Harry kept his eyes closed as the belt smacked into his back the first time.

Crack. His teeth clenched.

Crack. Air hissed through his teeth.

Crack. Blood flooded his mouth as he bit his lip.

Crack.

Crack.

Harry tensed, waiting for the next blow. But it never came. He opened his eyes to see his uncle staring at him. Oh no. He knew that look. He could almost see the light bulb sputtering to life above Vernon's head.

'Yes, yes, hmm.' Vernon muttered. 'You will not stay in this house anymore. I don't like you. What to do, what to do with you.' He paused in thought. Harry hoped it hurt. Then he spoke and Harry could clearly imagine the cruel look in his Uncle's eyes as he said, 'It's the streets for you boy!'

'The streets!!' That was all Harry could think as Vernon picked him up, carried him through the front door, into the car and then as he drove and drove and then he stopped, put him on the sidewalk and drove away. And that was that. The enormity of his situation hit him suddenly. He was alone, beaten bloody and homeless. He gasped. Panic siezed him and his throat suddenly seemed to close off. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

Alone...

He clutched at his throat.

Helpless...

He struggled to breath, every breath seemed to be harder to take.

Homeless...

Would he die here? On the pavement of a street of who's whereabouts he had no idea?

Alone...

'So?' He suddenly thought. 'I've been alone my whole life. Why does this matter? It doesn't. It doesn't matter, doesn't matter, doesn't matter...' He repeated this mantra in his head for what felt like hours but was really only a matter of minutes.

Finally, when he was calm (or as calm as one could be in his situation), he stood up from his position on the floor with difficulty, Harry looked around. Ok. Where was he? And more importantly, who were they.


	2. Chapter 2

Last Time: _Standing up with difficulty, Harry looked around. Ok. Where was he? And more importantly, who were they._

'They' were two people, a boy and a girl, walking down the road with expressions that made stone look like sponge. Harry's must have looked frightened because the girl's face softened as she hurried over to him.

'Hey. Are you ok?' The girl spoke. _Why? No one cares about me. So why does she seem to? _'I won't hurt you. Did that man abandon you?' There was an easy question. Harry nodded. Then the boy turned to the girl and began to mutter under his breath to her,

'We can't leave him like this...'

'Do you think Johnny would mind if...'

'Nah, and even if he does mind, we can't leave 'im here, not all beat up...'

'We can at least take 'im home, until he's better,'

'Johnny won't mind, I think, I mean, the kid looks so much like 'im...'

'You think he'd take 'im in as 'is son?'

'Johnny took us in, and Johnny likes kids. Dunno why…'

'True, so, we take 'im with us,'

'If he wants to come,'

'What's your name?' Harry looked up. It was the boy who had spoken and he no longer looked angry. He looked kind.

'Harry,' There was no reason for Harry to trust the boy yet.

'Would you like to come to our home so we can fix you up?' The girl asked and he noted that although her voice was rough, her words were kind.

'You'd...help...me?' Harry repeated. _What? Why? They look too young to be grownups so won't their parents be annoyed at them bringing me home?_ Harry voiced his thoughts.

'We don't live with our parents Harry,' the boy this time. What?! 'We're part of a…gang, you could call it.' Fright crossed Harry's face before he could stop it as the word 'gang' sunk in. Traitor face.

'Now you've scared him, David. We're not _that_ kind of gang, we're more like,' she paused for a second, thinking, then she seemed to find the right thought, 'we're more like the Lost Boys,' The girl's words appealed to Harry, inspite of the fact that he had no idea who or what the Lost Boys were.

'And Wendy,' the boy, David, the girl had called him, added smiling. Harry nodded uncertainly.

'But..who are you?' he directed this question towards the girl.

'Beth,' she replied.

'Just Beth?' he asked. _Doesn't she have a last name. Even I have a last name._

'Are you just Harry?' Beth asked with a smile. He shook his head.

'Harry Potter,' he said.

'Bethany James,' she said.

'So, are you coming with us?' David seemed impatient. It might have been because, in spite of Harry's surprising obliviousness, there was a growing puddle of blood around the small boy.

'Kay.' That decision was one that would change Harry's life.

'Beth?' Harry asked.

'Yes,' she replied.

'Who are the Lost Boys,'

'Well, how 'bout I tell you when we get where we're going,' she replied. Harry grinned.

'Kay.'

HPGW*HPGW*Later on*HPGW*HPGW

Harry blinked and narrowed his eyes. In his experience, when one woke up in an unfamiliar place, it was better to pretend that one was still sleeping so that one could observe one's surroundings. The thing was, his eyesight was poor at best and with narrowed eyes he could see next to nothing. So instead, Harry tried to remember how he had gotten here, wherever here was. He must have dozed off as Beth carried him to...hmm...he'd better find out just where he was, soon.

'Do you think he's awake?' Beth whispered.

'Yeah' this voice sounded amused. Harry suddenly wanted to get up, march over to the owner of this unfamiliar voice and demand to know just what was so funny about his situation. As far as Harry could see, there was nothing remotely amusing about this. He couldn't see, his back felt like someone had ripped strips of his skin away (which was essentially what Dursley had done), he had no idea where he was or who he was with. All in all, it was very _un_funny.

'Are you awake Harry?' This was David. Deciding that there was no point in pretending to stay asleep, Harry opened his eyes fully. Not that that improved his vision. Looking around he counted a total of three people in the room; two boys and one girl. What surprised him, however, was the lack of grownups. David and Beth looked about twelve or thirteen and the other boy only looked to be about sixteen.

'How's your back?' The other boy spoke. Harry frowned.

'I'm fine.' Harry said as he sat up and jutted his chin forward defiantly, resolving not to talk to the boy who still sounded like he was smiling. But then his curiosity got the better of him, again (Harry had lost count of how many times he had angered the Dursleys simply by being unable to stand not knowing some piece of information). 'What's your name?'

'Johnny. What's yours?' What a stupid question for this Johnny to ask. Surely Beth and David had already told him. Well, if Johnny was going to ask questions that were clearly designed to make him open up then there was no way in hell that Harry was going to cooperate.

'Didn't they tell you?' Harry asked innocently.

'You're smart. And you're right; I do know, it's Harry, isn't it?' Johnny's stared at him appraisingly. Harry stared back, his face still resembling that of a cherub in a church. Beth and David watched, their eyes flicking back and forth like they were watching the metaphorical ball bounce from Harry's court to Johnny's and back again. For a while everyone seemed frozen in their current positions. Then Johnny laughed. Harry's brows furrowed. What on earth?! 'You're so cute,' Johnny said, still laughing. Well! That was the last thing Harry expected Johnny to say.

'I'm not cute,' Harry replied, 'I'm a ugly freak.' He continued, the words sounding as though the boy had been programmed to say them. Immediately Harry knew he had said the wrong thing. He flinched as the faces of the other occupants turned dark. Then Johnny surprised him, yet again, by kneeling down and taking his hands. Then, looking Harry in the eye, he said, 'whoever said that was wrong and you shouldn't believe them. You aren't a freak, you're special; you're one of us now.'

Harry stared at him. Whatever did he mean? No one had ever told him he was special or that he belonged. Johnny had done both. Then he spoke again, cracking a grin as he said, 'and as for ugly, that's ridiculous, you're one of the cutest little five year olds I've ever seen.'

Harry was positive he should be going into shock. After a few seconds engaged in the intelligent and well respected activity of blinking owlishly, his brain sputtered back to life with an almost audible pop. Two vitally important thoughts occurred to him. First, how did Johnny know he was five and how much else did he know? And more importantly,

'Little! LITTLE! I'm NOT LITTLE! Or cute!' Harry said 'cute' with absolute disgust, and then, is if he hadn't mad himself so clear you could practically see through him, he added, 'I'm a big boy.' Johnny raised one eyebrow. Harry reddened and glared at Johnny furiously. Johnny lowered his eyebrow…then raised the other. Harry's eyes bugged out and his jaw went slack.

'Small children are so easily amused.' David whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Duh. I'm not J.. Never will be.**

**A/N: Hi guys! Sorry for not updating for so long, but I'm working on my first real book as well as writing fanfiction so I've been kind of busy. Anyway, I know that every author asks for review for every chapter (I don't want a review for every chapter, I just want one when you get to the end of all the chapters I've put up, thats not much guys) and no one wants to stop reading a good fanfic to send a review but I checked my 'traffic' tab and 'The Street Kid' has had over five hundred hits. Now that may not be much to all you brilliant authors who may or may not be reading this, but if half the amount of people who read my story reviewed, my two gigabyte email storage would fill up fast. Anyway, thanks to those of you who reviewed. Seeing 'Review Alert' showing up as the subject to so many emails really brightened my day. Now, the story;**

Last time: _'Small children are so easily amused.' David whispered._

Wow. Harry had never seen anyone do thatproperly. When his Aunt Petunia tried to raise one eyebrow, she'd ended up with both raised and and scrunched up, looking like she was constipated. Then Harry realised he was still gaping at Johnny. And Beth and David were still laughing. Harry flushed. _Focus Harry focus_, he thought, _there was something else, something important...oh yeah, how Johnny knew he was five._

'Johnny, how did you know I was five?' Johnny looked surprised.

'I didn't,' Harry frowned, 'I guessed, I didn't really know,' Johnny elaborated. 'By the way, why did your relatives call you a freak?'

Harry froze. Could he tell Johnny, who was practically a stranger to him, why he had been called 'freak' rather than something along the more conventional and popular lines of 'bastard' and 'son of a bitch'. Could he tell him? The answer, yes, most definitely. He may not know Johnny well but there was something about him that made you want to trust him.

'I can do stuff.'

'What kind of stuff Harry?'

'Freaky stuff,' Harry may have trusted Johnny enough to give him the information but he had never told anyone about his _abilities_. It was difficult for him.

'Can you tell me more?' Johnny was confused. 'Freaky stuff'. What was 'freaky stuff'. He was dismayed when Harry shook his head.

'But I can show you,' (**A/N: who recognizes this bit, you know from the Chamber of Secrets, Harry's first conversation with Tom Riddle's diary, sorry, couldn't resist**) Harry looked hopeful and scared at the same time. A combination achievable only by a five year old.

'Go ahead,' Harry raised hand and pointed toward a cup of water on the table in the far corner of the tiny room. Johnny turned to the cup, his eyes widening as the cup began to rise off the table and hover in midair, before floating towards him and stopping at arms' length away from him. He took it out of the air and took a moment to compose himself. When Harry had said 'freaky stuff' he had not been expecting this. This was freaky, but not a terrible-horrific-secret kind of freaky, this was,

'Wicked.' Whatever Harry had expected as a response to him using his abilities, it was not praise. He unconsiously scrunched up his nose in confusion, another task accomplishable only by a five year old. Beth smiled, inspite of her life on the streets with two boys and a dagger, the little boy in front of her brought out the girly side of her. The side that went 'aww' at all things bright, beautiful and cute.

'You're not mad?' Why would Johnny be mad? It was a little strange to see for the first millisecond, then the utter this-is-amazing reaction overwhelmed you.

'None of us are mad,' Johnny said, looking around at the other occupants of the room, 'are we?' He didn't say this in a threatenting tone at all. It was a simple question.

'Honey, none of us are mad at you. What you just showed us is something unique and fantastic and you should be proud of it,' David gaped at her. Beth _never_ acted like a _real_ girl. She didn't wear skirts or pink and she did _not_ call anyone honey. He knew she was kind but he didn't know that she _could_ act like a mother-hen person. What surprised him however, was that this other side of Beth was kind of...nice. He liked it. He was snapped out of his musings by the little boy's voice.

'But, I'm not special, I'm - I'm weird, I'm-'

'Wrong,' all heads swivelled around to stare at David. He was the most reserved of their group. He was the one that took 'strong and silent' to the next level. He was also the one who gave 'tall, dark and handsome' new meaning, but that was irrelevant. 'Some people say that no one sees themselves properly, but you don't see yourself at all.'

'David's right, just 'cause you can do something that not everyone can, doesn't mean that there's something wrong with you; there's something wrong with the people who can't see that your special,' Beth confirmed David's statement. (**A/N: I don't know if that's how you use a semicolon so if any of you could tell me the answer in a review or if you could email me via my profile**). Harry stared at them as if what they were saying was absolutely the craziest idea since diving off cliffs for fun.

'Why?' Harry sounded so completely confused.

'What do you mean?' God this kid was frustrating. Why couldn't he just tell them what was wrong?

'Why are you being nice to me?' Johnny felt like kicking himself. Of course the kid wanted to know the reason behind their concern. The only concern Harry had most likely ever gotten would have been faked and before a beating so that it hurt inside and out. But before he could reply, David felt the need to prove that he remembered how to talk.

'Look kid, I didn't know your relatives but judging by what they did to your back, I'd say they were awful damn close in personality to mine and I, for one, am not going to let anyone live like that. We'll look after you, kid,' David had been abused from when he was six to when he was nine. After that he'd taken to the streets, where he had joined up with Johnny.

'Really?' Harry sounded so hopeful and yet so unsure. What would it take to convince him that they wanted him to stay because they actually liked him rather than because they had asked him to on a random impulse.

'Yeah, really,' Johnny replied. Harry smiled tentatively. Beth smiled back. They waited for the boy's next question but it didn't come. Instead of another query, he held out his arms. Beth's smile widened and she hugged him. David shook his head. Somehow Johnny always had to have the last word.

**A/N: I know, fluff and nonsense, but I had to get that out of the way to make way for the Harry that kicks but! By the way, I have had a lot of requests that Harry be 'baddass', I have nothing against that but the 'gang' that Harry joins is just a group of kids living on the streets that have banded together for survival. If any of you have seen 'The Theif Lord', the gang is sort of like that but Johnny is of age in the muggle world and works for a living. Harry is going to be tough and cool but not in a 'tattoos, peircings and drugs' sort of way, he's going to be more cunning, still Gryffindor, but good at being sneaky. Anyway, please hit the review button and send me a review. Updates may come quicker, you never know...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi guys! I just want to say something quickly before we move on to Harry and co. When I posted chapter four I was really excited. It was my longest chapter yet and I was really hoping that it would get a few reviews. I woke up the next morning and turned on the computer and checked my emails. I got nineteen emails. One of them was irrelevant to this, fourteen of them were ' has added you to their story/author alert'. Four of them were reviews. It's really nice to know that a lot of people like your story enough to want to stay up to date with where it is, but please send me a review. I know all author want them and there's a reason for that. They're real proof that people like your story and are willing to tell you that or if there's something that they don't like about it and we can try to improve on it. I know that a lot of readers don't have accounts and I haven't figured out how to allow anonymous reviews. Sorry if it wouldn't let you review. Anyway thanks, sorry to go on and on about it, but it's a really good feeling to get a review and I write better (and faster) when I'm happy. Thanks! Also, Beth is not blonde and pale, which I apologize for portraying her as in the last chapter. I have nothing against blondes but she has the whole mediteranian 'honey coloured skin and wavy, dark copper hair, but she has dark blue eyes. She is tough, but even a tomboy goes 'awww' when presented with a little boy like Harry.**

Last time: _Somehow Johnny always had to have the last word._

Beth left David and Johnny with Harry so that she could go buy dinner. She grinned. When she'd first hit the streets she'd never have suspected that things would turn out like they did. She'd been expecting to have to steal and sneak around the backstreets of London. She still had to sneak around the backstreets of London but stealing was a risk they didn't need to take as Johnny was eighteen and held an honest job; they could just afford the absolute necessities.

A house not being included in said necessities. Shelter was an issue, but they hadn't had to kip out in the open for months. They'd stayed in cardboard boxes occasionally, but since the building next to one of the many massive factories in industrial London had been deserted, they'd stayed there. She still had trouble believing that she had survived on the streets for so many years.

Crossing one of the many small streets, she then turned and opened the door to the fish and chip place. Fish and chips was by far the cheapest chow around. The tiny bell above the doorway rang and Chewie emerged from the back room.

Chewie was a rounded, middle-aged man of Itallian heratige that seemed to be permanently happy. The friendliest man the pack (**1**) knew, he knew anyone and everone and inspite of his appearance as an unobservan old man, often knew of your problems before you did. He was a boisterous man but if you needed help he could be kind, compassionate and fatherly. To the multitude of kids on the streets, that's what he was. A father figure. Nobody could quite remember when he'd arrived but nobody could remember a time when he hadn't been there, on the corner, selling much needed food to bedraggled children.

'Ai ai ai ai! (**2**) Bethy! How you doin'?'

'Great, how 'bout you Chewie?'

'Oh, I doin' alright. How are de boys? They doin' ok?'

'Yeah, they're cool, we found another one today, his name's Harry.'

'How old is dis boy?'

'He's five.' Chewie sensed her reluctance to discuss something she was unsure about.

'What 'appened to him?' Those were the only words needed to unleash the torrent of emotions the girl had been bottling up since meeting Harry.

'He was livin' with his relatives. They 'bused him Chew. The beat 'im and starved 'im. His aunt an' uncle too, right. Not strangers or foster parents. 'Is bloody family! 'Is back's a mess and 'e's as waif-like as the ghost of Christmas Past and 'es so-' (**3**)

'Waida minute. Slow down Bethy, what you sayin'?'

'He's been livin' with his relatives 'cause 'is parents is dead (**4**) and 'is uncle beat 'im. Looks like they didn't feed 'im neither, 'cause 'e's so thin see. I ain't never seen a kid beat up so bad so young! None of us were! I don' get it,' she finished softly.

'Now listen 'ere Bethy. You know dat not ev'ryone's good like you. Dis kid's relative's must 'ave been some of de worst to beat a kid, yes? We know dat, now de only ting we can do is treat 'im real good. Show 'im dat not ev'ryone's bad, you know? Good. You'll 'elp 'im,' Beth smiled.

'Right. We have t' 'elp 'im,' Beth nodded determinedly.

'Good girl Bethy. An' don' forget to tell dem boys not to be rough wid de kid, kay,' Chewie said handing her the food he'd been preparing though out their conversation.

'I won'. Bye Chew,' she said, and began her walk back to the boys. Her boys.

**A/Ns from the chapter:**

**1: I've used the word 'pack' here because soon they will start calling Harry 'cub' and I want to emphasize the fact that this is not a 'tattoos and drugs' group, but a group of kids and not using the word 'gang' helps me to do that**.

**2: if any of you readers have seen 'Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers', this is the sound that the robot with the head like a UFO makes when he's worried. If you haven't seen the series, I'm leaving it up to your imagination, but he is supposed to have an Italian accent.**

**3: Harry told Beth while she took him home**.

**4: When she was talking to Harry she was speaking slowly and clearly so that he'd trust her, but her street accent's coming through now.**

**A/N: There you go, another chapter. It was a bit short but I'm working on making the next chapter at the very least four pages. Thanks for sticking with me. Remember, reviews are appreciated. Until next time,**

**Evanlyn**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or even the settings of this story, which are, by the way, the backstreets of London and later, Hogwarts. So sad...**

**A/N: Hi again. I've got good news and bad news, so, good news first. All in all, for this story, I have received 33 reviews. Thankyou in particular to HarryismyHeroicsavior, Jill-Bloom89, Makurayami Ookami, oceanlover14, MaritimeStars and madmedjenna, all of whom have sent me from 2 to 5 reviews. I love you guys! Also, the chapters are mostly from all perspectives, sort of like I'm looking on and I'm able to read their minds and I'm writing it all down here, so don't get confused it the perspective seems to change around a lot. It's just that at this point, we (or rather you guys more particularly) don't really know these characters and I need you to 'get to know' Johnny, David, Beth and this Harry, and any other pack members who might show up...**

**Now, to the bad news, guys, in case all of you have put me on your author alert lists haven't noticed, I have started writing a new story. It is called 'The Junior Wizarding World' and I have been really discouraged by the fact that I have not received a single review. Not one. The only email I got concerning it, was to say that someone had put me on their story alert list and thank you to that person, but please guys, the rest of you writers know how difficult it is to keep going with a story that according to your story traffic, people read, but to have no one actually send you a review. It's pretty hard and I've been getting writers block and I don't know what to write because I don't know how it will be recieved. Please tell me how you feel because I'm feeling insecure about my writing. Thanks, sorry to whinge but, you know how it feels to thinks something that you do is a good piece of work but no one seems to like it. Now the story:**

While Beth is at Chewie's, Johnny and David clean Harry up...

Harry yelped. He didn't mean to. It was just that the lukewarm freshwater being poured over his cuts, was feeling more like ice cold saltwater.

'Sorry kid,' David winced and found himself wishing for Beth to come back. She was as tough as they come, but still managed to be gentler with children that either of the boys. The hidden gentle side of her was one of the many things he loved about her. He shook his head to clear it of these strange, unwanted thoughts that continued to invade his conscious, rational mind.

'Johnny,' Harry must have another question. David wondered briefly whether or not the kid would ever run out of questions. He'd already learned that the room they were in was in the room closest to the staircase on the 6th floor of one of the many abandoned buildings in the suburb of Hackney, Johnny had a severe peanut allergy; David had a birthmark on the back of his neck that looked like a dog and Beth liked Coke more than Pepsi.

'Yeah Harry?' Johnny was so damn patient. How did he do it when he, David, was trying to stop himself from hunting down the kid's relatives?

'How old are you?'

'Seventeen,' He was? David had never thought to ask. There was a moment's pause before,

'David,'

'Yeah?'

'How old are _you_?' David was positive that Harry would know everything about them by sunset.

'Thirteen,' David replied shortly

'Oh,' for a minute there was silence broken only by the sound of David washing Harry's back and then,

'And Beth?' Oh god, more questions.

'Beth's thirteen too,' Johnny replied. David was having trouble speaking. His vision was gaining a red hue as he uncovered scar after scar.

'What do you do Johnny?'

'What d'you mean?

'Do you have a job or, I dunno, you know?' He seemed embarrassed, like his question wasn't one that wasn't perfectly normal in this most unusual situation.

'Yeah, I…um… I work at a…uh… a pub near here,' Johnny answered with difficulty. David sniggered at Johnny's attempt to hide the fact that he worked at Hackneys' favorite, less-than-legal night club.

'Kay,' this time, David knew better than to think that Harry had finished his interrogation. He only had to wait a moment before,

'Do you know anyone else who lives…like you do,'

'You mean, like, on the streets?' David decided that talking to the kid would probably distract him from his less than appropriate thoughts about what he would like to see happen to Harry's relatives.

Harry nodded, relieved that they didn't seem to be offended by his question.

'There's only a few other gangs, but there are a couple o' kids who stick to 'emselves mos'ly. They're alrigh', but the other gangs…well, we don' really talk to 'em much. They're not like us, they're… well, just steer clear of 'em, at least 'til we taught you t' defend yourself. After that, you can 'elp us kick their arses.' David grinned, trying to impress upon Harry the kind of danger that gang presented, without scaring him.

'You'll teach me to...fight?' Harry sounded shocked, like they would give him a life on the streets, without teaching him the _how_. Silly boy. Of course they'd teach him how to fight. A street kid not knowing how to fight was like a pigeon not knowing how to crap on statues. The knowledge came with the territory.

'Yeah, we'll teach you, but you should ask Beth t' help as well,' David replied.

'Why?' Harry and Johnny spoke at the same time. Harry because he honestly didn't know, Johnny because he was trying to corner David into admitting that he liked Beth.

'She teach you how t' 'it so it hurts,' at the quizzical looks on the faces of his companions, he elaborated,' where the sun don't shine.'

Johnny winced as the memory of the first time he'd met Beth came flooding back. He'd seen her on the street, alone and with tears running down her face, and approached her. He'd gotten half-way through saying 'hello', when she'd slammed her knee straight into his crotch. His voice had been two octaves too high for hours and David had laughed at him non-stop for 'getting hit by a girl' right up until she demonstrated what she'd done to Johnny, using him as a dummy. He shook himself from the memory with a shudder. David grinned and reminisced,

'Those were the days...'

'Then she got stronger,' they winced and Harry snickered.

'I 'eard that!' Johnny and David froze, identical looks of 'we're doomed' on their faces. She entered the small room with a box in one hand, some bread in the other and a glare on her face. Harry grinned and Beth decided not to hit the others, at least, not until Harry had gotten used to seeing people being hit in a normal, casual sort of way.

'Heard what?' David asked innocently.

'Don't play dumb; with you it's unnecessary,' she tossed back.

'Hey!'

'So, how's Chewie?' Johnny attempted to steer the conversation back into safer waters.

'Exactly the same as he was this morning, and yesterday, and the day before that, and-'

'Okay, okay, you win, no need to _completely_ flatten my ego,' Johnny cut her off.

'Can't help it; it's a reflex,' She grinned at him sweetly, before passing out the food. When she gave Harry his, he stared at her, mouth open.

'What? D'you think we were all going t' eat and not give you any? Look Harry, right now, it doesn't matter what your relatives did. We'll be keeping you fed, clothed and hopefully, happy, 'kay' Beth stated firmly. Harry nodded slowly, then a smile spread over his face.

'Kay,'

**A/N: What did you think? The chapters are lengthening slowly, or maybe it's just me…anyway,**

**Adios! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. God, I am sooo over writing this at the beginning of every single chapter! Geez…**

**A/N: Thanks so much to my faithful reviewers, I love youz all! Just three things you need to be aware of, one) aside from the bit at the end of the last chapter that I always put at the beginning of the next, Italics are Harry's thoughts. For David, Johnny and Beth's thoughts, I'll just write them as 'Beth thought' or 'As far as David was concerned…', two) David has an Irish accent, three) the pack (Johnny, David, Beth and now Harry) call children 'cubs' . Cool, now to the story ladies and gents.**

**Last Time:**_ 'What? Did you think we were all going t' eat and not give you any? Look Harry, right now, it doesn't matter what your relatives did. We'll be keeping you fed, clothed and hopefully, happy, 'kay' Beth stated firmly. Harry nodded slowly, then a smile spread over his face._

'_Kay,'_

Harry opened his eyes slowly, cursing his imagination for coming up with a dream as real as the one he had just lived, wishing that there really were people who would take him in and care for him. It was almost ironic, how the dream only made you realize just how horrible the nightmare is, making the dream infinitely more attractive. He shook himself mentally, he was getting all mushy again.

He blinked, squinting at the light. Wait! Light?! Since when did sunlight stream through the nonexistent window in his much-smaller-than-the-room-he-was-in-now cupboard? Harry grinned as the feeling of euphoria spread through him. It hadn't been a dream. He really was here, in a dirty room, in one of the abandoned factories on the less reputable streets of London. And he was happier than he could ever remember being.

'When d'you reckon we can start teaching him to kick ar-' David asked.

'Shut it! You'll wake him!' Beth hissed.

'Yeah right! That kid sleeps like bloody sleeping beauty on pills!' he retorted. Harry bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. Deciding that now was probably the time to 'wake up' he yawned loudly. Beth glared at David,

'Told you you'd wake him!'

'Well he needed to wake up anyway,' said David. Beth huffed and sat down next to Harry.

'How're you feeling?' she asked him. He shrugged.

''kay.'

'How's your back?' she persisted. He looked at her in surprise,

'Fine,' he said.

'Can I see?' she asked. A look of fright flashed across his face, and then it was gone, a mask of indifference replacing it. He shrugged,

''kay,' and twisted so that his back was to her. She pulled his shirt up gently and stared. His back, which had been torn and bloody the night before, was now healed. Only a few scars remained, standing out among the pale, old looking scars that littered his back. David whistled,

'Wow. Some collection you got there, cub.' Beth smacked him on the arm; what was he thinking, being so, so, _guy-ish_! Men!

'How did you do that?' she asked.

'Do what?' the cub clearly didn't have a clue what she was talking about.

'Your back! Yesterday it was all bloodied up an' now they're all scars!'

'So?' He really didn't know that half-inch deep gashes didn't heal overnight. What kind of child was this cub? He could make objects float, fresh wounds into scars and he didn't know he wasn't normal.

'Never mind, cub.' David said. A silence settled over the room. Beth was the first to ask the question they were all stuck on,

'What now?'

**I know it's not much of an update and I'm sooo sorry about the lame update and the lame cliff hanger, but I've got writer's block and thought you might like to at least read what I've already got. I'll update soon, promise. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I wish.**

**A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated in ages. Thanks for sticking with me! Here's the story!**

**Last time: **_'Never mind, cub.' David said. A silence settled over the room. Beth was the first to ask the question they were all stuck on,_

'_What now?'_

'What now' turned out to be a visit to Chewie's. Harry followed Beth and David, a hairs' breadth away from their feet. He paused when they reached the staircase and felt for the handrail. Grabbing hold of it, he tentatively put one foot down on the stair. Finding the step, he put his other foot down. Then he reached for the next bar of the hand rail and clambered down to the next stair.

He continued this process until he finally reached out and felt no bar. _The bottom! No more stairs! Phew..._ He went to take another step when David caught him round the waist and swung him around to the right.

'Not so fast. You'll trip down the stairs.' _More stairs! Awww..._ Sighing, Harry reached out for the bar and began the stupidly long trip down the stupidly big steps. When they _finally_ reached the bottom (which in Harry's opinion took _far_ too long), David steered him out the door and into the street.

Harry blinked. It didn't help. The world was still in the three layers it had appeared to separate itself into when they'd gone outside. The grey bottom layer he assumed was the road. The greyish blue above had to be the sky but then why the hell was the rest of the world red?

Buildings? But they couldn't be. Buildings were white, not red. All the buildings on Privet Drive were white, so why were these ones red? He didn't realise he'd stopped until Beth wheeled around and picked him up, swinging him onto her hip and proceeding to carry him down the street. He tensed. Beth ignored it, simply saying,

'We want t' get t' Chewie's place before t'morrow, y'know.' They got to the end of the street and turned, Beth shifting her grip on Harry so that he was over her shoulder, resting his chin hands with his elbows propped against her back.

Harry nearly fell asleep as Beth unknowingly rocked him as she walked, but he kept his eyes wide open, trying desperately to remember the route they were taking. One should always know the way around their living space (just in case you ever needed to escape it) and seeing as Johnny, Beth and David lived on the streets, then he needed to learn his way around.

The jingling of a bell broke Harry's concentration and he yelped in surprise as Beth put him down abruptly.

'Sorry Harry.' Beth said apologetically, squatting down so she was at eye-level with the small boy.

''s fine.' Harry mumbled, bemused, not quite sure what she was apologising for. Suddenly a woman ran out from the back room, gasped and breathed,

'Bel bambino,' she she ran back into the other room and he heard her calling for someone. 'Chewie, abbiamo visitatori! Vieni fuori! Hanno un altro ragazzo con loro. Un piccolo.' Harry didn't understand her. He turned to David.

'Chewie and Ophelia are Italian. They speak Italian as well as English.' Harry's mouth formed an 'o' shape and he nodded as the woman returned, this time bringing a man with her. The man clapped his hands together.

'Well 'e is adorable, no?' Chewie bustled forward, the wispy woman behind him following curiously. He bent down to Harry's level. Harry flinched. 'Don' worry, bambino, I won' 'urt you. Don' you worry.' He continued soothingly, gently reaching for Harry's hand and grasping it in his hands between them. 'You see? Don' fear me, bambino, I won' urt you. I promise, eh?'

Harry nodded shyly. He couldn't make out the man's face but he imagined it to be round and kind, with an irrepressible smile and wise, crinkled eyes. His hands, Harry knew, were soft and warm – comforting. Harry decided he liked the man. The woman leaned down and in broken English, asked,

'What your name?' Harry glanced at Beth. She nodded.

'Harry.' He whispered. He thought she might be smiling when the pink smudge on her face (her lips, he thought) curved up at the edges.

'Attendere,' she instructed. And then she was gone, disappearing through the door behind the counter. He heard the sound of the woman opening what sounded like the screw-top of a jar that hadn't been opened in a while, the crinkling sound that sweet wrappers made when Dudley screwed them up, then the sound of the lid screwing back on and the woman's footsteps.

Then she was kneeling in front of him again and in her hand she held something small and green. She spoke again in her broken English,

'It is nice. It is a, how you say...sweet. Yes! Sweet, for you, Harry.' There was that crinkling sound again then she took his hand, her fingers thin and gentle, and placed the green thing in it. Cautiously, Harry put it in his mouth. She was right; it was nice.

'Thank you.' He whispered, sucking on the sweet. The woman, 'Ophelia' David had called her, smiled again and clapped her hands.

'Di niente, bambino.' David bent down,

'She says you're welcome.'

'You speak Italian too?' Harry asked, surprised.

'Not much.'

'Oh.' Harry yawned, swaying slightly. Beth must have noticed, because she immediately picked him up, resting him on her hip. He flinched at the unexpected touch, then relaxed as he reminded himself that she wasn't going to hurt him. He laid his head on Beth's shoulder, and stared drowsily at her dark hair as the grown-ups (and teenagers) continued their conversation. He wasn't quite sure what they were talking about, but he liked the sound of the woman's voice. It was soft and it went up and down as she spoke.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, but soon gave up and just listened to the woman's voice. It sounded like she was singing, almost. It was soothing and pretty. Like a lullaby almost. He yawned again. She was nice, he decided sleepily, he liked her...

Here are some translations – if they're off, blame Google Translator:

'_Bel bambino.'_ : 'Beautiful child.'

'_Chewie, abbiamo visitatori! Vieni fuori! Hanno un altro ragazzo con loro. Un piccolo.'_ : 'Chewie, we have visitors! Come here! They have another boy with them. A little one.'

'_Attendere,' _: 'Wait'

'_Di niente, bambino.' _: 'You're welcome, child.'

A/N: Well...what did you think? I was going to make it longer but thought this was a good place to end it. Anyway, until next time (and this time that will be sooner than the last time)! Adios amigos!!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be.**

**A/N: Sorry for the year wait. Am hoping to get this fic back on its feet though these holidays. Cheers for reading. **

When Harry next opened his eyes, it was dark. He was in another white room (though it appeared almost grey in the darkness). No. Wait! It was the same white room as before! Yes, the dark blur of a table was in the same corner but the blue squarish patch of wall (the window he figured) had turned black. Definitely night time.

He lay for a moment, listening. He could hear two sets of breaths. One had a slight snore, Johnny or David, he guessed. The other breath was quiet and somehow lighter and came from a different side of the room – Beth, probably. That meant that one was missing. He could count on one hand the people in his memory that had been kind to him and now one of those people was missing. That didn't sit well with him.

Silently he rose and crawled towards the snoring inhabitant of the White Room, as he'd decided to call it. Reaching the sleeping figure, he gently reached out a hand. His fingers met with rough skin, then trailed upwards, finding the crease of the figure's elbow. He ran his hand up the figure's arm, past the shoulder, up the neck and along the chin, and then stopped. He brushed his thumb across the figure's cheek. The skin was smooth. He went a little lower, closer to the chin...

There!

Harry felt the scar on the figure's jaw and frowned; it was David. He'd found this distinguishing mark on David's face by accident when David had taken his turn to carry him on the way back from Chewie and Ophelia's. He'd woken for a moment at the jolt and nearly hit him in the mouth. Apologizing in a half-asleep babble, he had run his tiny hands over David's jaw to make sure he hadn't hurt him.

Where was Johnny though? Where would he be at this time of night? Harry shuffled over to the wall and, placing one hand on it, began to crawl forward, knowing that if he didn't take his hand off the wall, he'd eventually find the door. He kept going until he felt the doorframe beneath his hand.

He stood slowly and felt for the handle. He turned it and pushed gently. It gave him a loud creak for his trouble. Harry froze. He turned his head, just in time to see David's silhouette sit up.

'Where are you going?' David hissed. Harry stood there, petrified, as David stood and moved towards him. Harry's hands shook. Would David hit him? Dursley would've. Dursley always hit him if he woke him up in the middle of the night, even if it hadn't been him who woke him. Harry's memory of pointing this out to his uncle might be fading, but the beating that followed was one that he wouldn't forget in a hurry.

But almost as soon as the thought appeared in his head, he felt guilty for it; David wouldn't hit him. He hoped. He squashed the thought furiously – and unsuccessfully.

Then David knelt in front of him.

'What's wrong, kid?' He sounded tired and like he'd much rather be doing something else, like sleeping, but not angry. 'Not angry' was good. He chanced a question.

'Where's Johnny?' He whispered.

'Johnny's at work.' Harry stared at him incredulously but knew the effect was lost in the dark. He voiced his disbelief.

'But it's _night time_. It's _dark_.'

'Johnny works at night time...In the dark.'

'Oh. 'Kay.' He said, still not knowing quite why anyone would be _working_ at _night_. Night was for sleep, wasn't it? Maybe night was for something different here?

'Go back to sleep, Harry.' Or not. Maybe it was just Johnny who used night time to work. That sounded better; David and Beth slept at night. It was probably just Johnny. Johnny must be funny like that, he thou

'Kay.' Harry breathed, not wanting to wake Beth. David shuffled back to his spot on the floor and Harry crawled towards his. He was silent for a moment, and then he hissed,

'David?' He heard David exhale loudly before he replied.

'Yes?' Harry paused.

'Nothing.'

'You sure?'

'Yep.'

'Okay, kid.' Harry lay in the darkness in silence. He'd wanted to say goodnight to David, but he'd been too...not exactly frightened, more nervous. He shook himself mentally. _Since when have you been such a scaredy-cat? You used to be able to talk back to Dursley and now you're afraid to say goodnight to David. Pathetic._

_I'll say goodnight tomorrow... _he promised himself as he drifted off. _Tomorrow…_

**A/N: Come on, you know you want to. Good reviews make this author happy! :P**

**Thanks**

**-EvanlynPotter**


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